


Elementary Espionage

by masterofcoins



Category: CHERUB - Robert Muchamore, Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Gen, Kid Fic, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock, Multiple Crossovers, Pre-Series, Spies & Secret Agents, Teen Harry Hart, Teen John Watson, Teen Mycroft, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofcoins/pseuds/masterofcoins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a mission that went horribly wrong, young Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes lost their parents at the same time. To ensure their safety, they are placed in CHERUB, a top secret organization that educates and trains orphaned children to serve as spies for the British government. They spend their childhood learning the basics (and the not-so-basics) of espionage and going on missions to "save the world". </p><p>However, the circumstance of their parents' unfortunate demise continues to haunt them into adulthood.</p><p>The story follows the brothers in their formative years as spies which leads to their adult profession as depicted in the Sherlock TV series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings!
> 
> Welcome to my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction. I decided to write this after being alerted to the fact that there are only a handful of CHERUB fics, which is to me pretty tragic as it is such an amazing series. Also, I was inspired by my friend (Rollingmuse) who is having so much fun writing her own fanfic. Do check her out if you haven't already!
> 
> This is going to be a pretty fast-paced story as I want to keep the pace similar to the original CHERUB series by Robert Muchamore. CHERUB is a top secret organization that trains orphans to be spies for the British government. Unlike many young adult novel, this particularly series get really down and gritty with fast-paced action and fight scenes that really draws you in. If you like that sort of things, do check out the series :) 
> 
> With CHERUB serving as the background setting, Sherlock and Kingsman characters are introduced to satisfy my conspiracy theories regarding the British government's secret agents.
> 
> Please enjoy the story! Comments & kudos would be much appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: All references belong to BBC Sherlock and Robert Muchamore.

The bright May sun shone down on two figures in the garden surrounded by blooming flowers. The gardener had certainly outdone himself this spring, filling every square inch available with some sort of blossoms. However, all of this beauty escaped the attention of a boy who is hunched over pieces of paper and scribbling madly away to the amusement of his mother. She looked on lovingly at him while enjoying her cup of Earl Grey. His brother never put in this much effort, she thought with slight amusement. Just as she finished that thought, a pale, skinny teenage boy plopped himself down next to her.

He stared intently at the pieces of paper for about 5 seconds before smirking at his brother. "Really, Sherlock? You need to scribble for this?" The boy glanced up with a scowl, "Mother said that's the proper way to work out these things."

“Oh, is that so? Then I would have to applaud your efforts to translate ‘The orange biscuits are hidden behind the…” he broke off to take a quick look at the cipher. Sherlock quickly slammed his tiny hands down to cover the papers. 

“Mycroft…” a warning note audible in his mother’s voice but Mycroft chose to ignore it. Proving his intelligence to his brother is his favourite past time after all. Well, it’s not like he had a choice. He was done proving it to his school.

“Behind the… baking supplies!” Mycroft finished with a smug look on his face. “Caesar cipher is so basic. Mom has not taught you the Vigenère cipher, huh?

Sherlock scribbled a few letters angrily on a fresh sheet of paper then shoved it across the table to Mycroft.

UNXX TKK RDHWTKY

“Sherlock, mind your language.” His mother reproached him, shaking her head slightly. 

“Piss off, Mycroft? No way, dear brother. I have made annoying you to be my purpose in life.” Mycroft grinned while tousling his brother’s curly hair.

“Moooommmmm.. make him stop.”

“Mycroft, behave yourself. Sherlock, don’t whine. There will always be people better than you in life. Your time is better spent catching up to them and overtaking them rather than whine about it.”

“Yes, mother.” Sherlock bowed his head down in shame after being chastised.

“The same goes for you, Mycroft. Since you are so eager to prove that you are smarter than everybody, how about if you help me here with this new encryption formula that I’m currently working on? Try breaking it.” She passed a piece of paper to Mycroft who took it eagerly.

Violet looked on fondly on her boys who were enthusiastically trying to break her encryptions. A tiny seed of doubt began to take place in her mind. Did she make the right decision in forcing them to attend normal school instead of placing them in the gifted programme? Only time will tell.

 

\---

 

“Are you sure about this? Deliberately putting our sons in harm’s way?”

“V, look at it this way, we are letting them follow our footsteps. We are aware of the dangers involved but we also know that they prepare us to the best of their abilities and sometimes beyond. What is safer than being able to handle everything that life can possibly throw at them?”

“We already lost one son to them! I want Mycroft and Sherlock to have a normal life!”

“I promise you they will lead a normal life as long as possible. They are already going to a normal school and everything. But you can’t deny that Mycroft is acting up because he’s not being challenged intellectually.”

“Sherlock provides a distraction for him.”

“But obviously it is insufficient. No matter how smart Sherlock is, a 7 year old is no match to a 14 year old.”

Violet sighed. “I hate to admit it but you’re right. And I’ve never seen Sherrin happier than during the days he was training for the MI5. I guess it’s in their blood.”

Siger kissed his wife on the forehead. “Cheer up, darling. Putting this clause in our will doesn’t mean it will come to pass. What are the odds that both of us will be gone? You are just a math professor after all.”

“Like you are 'just' an accountant.”

“Exactly.”

 

\---

Violet was engrossed in her formulas when her office telephone suddenly rang. Jolted out of her concentration, she dazedly picked up the phone wondering what troubles Mycroft has done this time at school.

“Hello, Professor Holmes speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Professor. This is Arthur, your husband’s colleague. I have important news to inform you. Do you happen to be alone right now?”

“Yes, I am. What news are you talking about?”

“First of all, I apologize for doing this over the phone. I’m afraid that your husband has been murdered when he was doing undercover work for his mission.”

“Excuse me? Is this a prank call?” Violet’s voice shook slightly.

“Sadly, it isn’t. Professor, I need you to pay attention to what I’m going to tell you next because your family might be in danger.” 

“Allright.” She took a deep breath to steady herself, “Please go ahead.”

“Tristan’s heavy involvement in thwarting a large smuggling syndicate has angered many and they are seeking revenge. He had received death threats to him and his family prior to his murder. Tristan had made arrangements for if the worst should happen to him. He requested me to be in charge of his family’s safety and I am calling you to do just that.”

A sniffle escaped from Violet and was noted by Arthur who softened his demeanour slightly.

“Professor Holmes, I’m very sorry for your loss but your family’s safety is at stake here. I have arranged for a car to pick you up from the university and another car is already on the way to pick up Sherlock and Mycroft from school. The car will bring you to the Kingsman Headquarters in London where you will remain for the time being until a secure accommodation can be arranged for you and your boys. It should arrive in about 10 minutes so I suggest that you should start making your way to the main entrance.” 

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll make my way to the entrance now.” She said with as much dignity as she could muster. She was not about to break down now. There is plenty of time for that later on.

“I look forward to meeting you in London, Professor.”

She hung up the phone and started packing her things that were scattered on her work table into her handbag. After she slung it on her shoulder, she gathered the formulas that she was working on into a folder, thinking that it would provide a good distraction from the tragedy that just befell her family. 

Clutching the folder firmly in her hand, she made her way out of her office. She spotted her research student huddled over his table, immersed in his research paper. 

“James, I will be away for a while due to a family emergency. I’m sure Professor Whitehall would be more than happy to look through your paper while I’m away.” 

“Professor?”

Her hand was already on the door knob while she turned to face her student.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

Violet’s eyes widened in shock as a bullet passed through her brain.


	2. Arthur's Plight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is in crisis mode. He just lost his first agent since he assume the position as Arthur. Even worse still, the agent that he lost left him very specific instructions that only Arthur has the authority and capacity to execute in full. There's no time for grieving just yet.

Arthur replaced the phone back to its cradle and massaged his temple. He was never good at this sort of thing. Tristan and Lancelot had always been the ones who handle these death announcements to family members. They knew what to say and when not to say anything. Oh, and they don’t do it over the phone. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it over the phone, Arthur buried his head in his hands and a single tear managed to escape him. Tristan was dead. His partner, Percival barely escaped with his life. Percival’s call alerted Arthur to foul play surrounding Tristan’s death. There was a traitor in their midst.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Arthur frowned while he moved to pick it up. Kingsmen only calls when there was trouble at their end.

“Arthur, Tristan’s wife is dead. Shot in the head.”

“How is that possible? I spoke to her 5 minutes ago.”

“I heard the gunshot from where I was waiting at the main entrance. I ran as fast as I could but all I could see was students fleeing the scene.”

“Kay, I’m going to hang up and check on Galahad and the kids.”

“Roger that.”

Arthur popped an aspirin before speed dialling Galahad. 

“Arthur! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Galahad cheerfully greeted Arthur. Why is he always so damned cheerful, wondered Arthur. Maybe it’s a Galahad thing. The one before him also had a sunny disposition, creating this false impression of harmlessness. Arthur made a mental note to make cheerfulness a requirement for all future Galahads.

Well, back to reality. “Do you have the kids?” Arthur demanded.

“Yes, yes. They are sitting in the back seat now safe and sound.”

“I need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you next.”

“Ok.” 

“Tristan’s wife was shot in the head before Kay can get to her. Don’t tell the kids now.”

“Gotcha. See you back in headquarters.” The cheerfulness didn’t let up till he disconnected the call.

Galahad let out a quiet sigh as he sped up on the A40 towards London. He glanced quickly at the siblings sitting at opposite ends of the back seat. Both are quietly staring out the windows into the rain. 

\---

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he finished his call with Galahad. Tristan’s Project Isolde couldn’t be carried out now that Violet was assassinated. He opened the 2nd drawer of his desk and took out a pale cream envelope with “Project Camelot” written in Tristan’s exquisite handwriting. He extracted out the contents and ruffled through them to find the phone number he needed.

“Dr. McAfferty speaking.”

“Mac. Arthur here.”

“Arthur, my dear friend, how’s everything going? I’m assuming this is not a social call since you called my office line?”

“You are correct, Mac. Remember Tristan? You would remember him better as Siger Holmes. I believe he contacted you recently.”

The image of a charismatic young man in his mid-twenties flashed into Mac’s mind. He worked with Holmes twenty odd years ago before Mac become chairman of CHERUB. Holmes’ sheer brilliance and utter lack of arrogance captivated Mac entirely. The whole of MI5 too apparently as Holmes quickly made his way up to the almost the top of the organization before being recruited by Kingsman. Mac lost touch with Holmes after that as Kingsman’s mission rarely overlap with CHERUB’s. Holmes’ call came as a pleasant surprise after years of silence.

“Yes, he came to visit me on campus about half a year ago.” A feeling of dread creeped over Mac as he realized what had happened. “Mac, is this about Project Camelot?”

“This is sooner than expected but Project Camelot has officially commenced when I made this call to you, Mac.” Arthur deflated slightly as he began his fourth “death announcement” in one day. Too many in one day for his taste. “Tristan was assassinated in Russia and his wife was shot in her office in Oxford.”

Mac involuntarily let out a loud gasp. Arthur winced. Perhaps that was too matter-of-fact-ly stated. Is there a guide book for these “announcements”? He jotted down a note to get his secretary to find one for him.

“Are the kids all right?” Mac enquired after a moment of shock over the tragic event.

“Galahad is bringing them to Kingsman headquarters as we speak. I was thinking of bringing them over to CHERUB tomorrow afternoon or maybe the day after. Do you think it’s too soon for them?”

“Children are surprisingly tougher than adults normally give them credit for. That’s the main thing I learned in CHERUB. Why don’t you give them the choice? I only need a couple of hours to set up the tests for them.”

“I hope you are right about children being tough. Honestly, I don’t know how to handle two kids who just lost their parents in a day. Urgh, they are still in the dark about their mother.” Arthur popped two more aspirins. 

“They are Holmes’ kids. How bad can they be?”

“Well, for starters, they don’t know their father is a secret agent. In addition to that, Tristan made me swear not to tell them the details of the case until they graduate from CHERUB.”

“Ah, I would imagine that would add a little complication.”

\---

Mycroft stepped out of the car into the London sidewalk in a foul mood. Being ushered by that obscenely cheerful man who plucked them out of school into what looked like a high end tailor shop annoyed him even more. His father is an accountant, not a tailor. But then again, this whole day didn’t make sense. He had so many questions to ask his mother but the man just kept saying that their mother was arriving in another car. So he spent the whole ride to London going through the day’s events and listing down questions to clarify things that didn’t add up. He was too busy trying to make sense of everything that he forgot to notice Sherlock.

Sherlock held on to Mycroft’s coat tails when the man came to pick them up from school and informed them about their father’s passing. He held on to it all through the ride to London without Mycroft noticing. He was imagining that he was holding his father’s hand.

\---

There came a knock on Arthur’s office door. The door creaked open and Galahad poked his head in. “Hello there. They are waiting for you downstairs.”

Arthur ran his hand through his hair and a few strands floated down to the table. His stomach made a gurgling sound. Damn. Five announcements in one day.

He reluctantly got up from his seat and made his way down with Galahad.

“Did they ask you anything during the ride over?”

“That Mycroft asked plenty of questions. The little one was silent all the way. No tears from either of them. It’s a bit disconcerting, really.”

“It just hasn’t hit them properly yet. The news about their mother should do it.” Arthur let out a groan as the inappropriateness of what just came out of his mouth hit him. “I’m so not cut out for this touchy-feely stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I had lots of fun making Arthur agonize over the news of Tristan's death :) Trying not to get things too weepy here...
> 
> Mycroft's POV coming up for next chapter. Look forward to it!


	3. Mycroft's Need to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is telling Mycroft anything so Mycroft needs to know even more. He's hellbent on getting answers without realizing that maybe he wouldn't like the answers.

Mycroft slumped in his seat out of boredom. His eyes glazed over as his teacher droned on about stuff that he already read extensively about in 3rd grade. It was so boring that he couldn’t even muster up the energy to spot a tiny mistake that the teacher make so that he can show him up with his superior knowledge on the subject as he usually do to entertain himself during lessons, much to all of his teachers’ chagrin. 

“…And thus the world was plunged into what we now call World War II. Now, the war lasted for…”

The door burst open and the principal stepped into the classroom with a grim expression. Mycroft noted with curiosity the man standing in the shadows behind the principal.

“Mycroft Holmes, you need to pack your bags. There’s a family emergency. Be quick about it as you still need to pick up your brother at the elementary school branch.”

“What emergency?” he called out, still slouching in his seat.

“NOW, Mycroft.” The Principal’s voice took a sterner note.

Sulkily, he shoved his textbook and pens into his backpack and slung it over his thin shoulders. He walked towards the door while feeling 20 pairs of eyes burning into the back of his head, all curious to know what tragedy had befallen the class genius. Some will miss him for the entertainment he occasionally provided them but most of them were glad to see him leave. Nobody likes a smart-ass after all.

The principal led the way to Sherlock’s class and gave the same spiel to get Sherlock out of class. Little Sherlock came out in a jiffy with his backpack unzipped and eyes wide open in fear and trepidation. 

The Principal turned around to face them both. “Please follow this gentleman who will bring you to meet your mother. Have a good day, boys.”

Mycroft jaw dropped at how callously the principal was handing them over to the stranger. He exploded, “What? You can’t just leave us with a total stranger and make us leave with him? What if he’s a kidnapper? Or worse, a rapist? How could you entrust us to a total stranger? And what family emergency were you talking about? Did something happen to our parents? What if he’s lyin-..”

“Mycroft, your father sent me to pick you and your brother up and take you to safety.” The stranger interrupted Mycroft’s tirade with a calm voice.

“How do I know you are telling the truth? “ Mycroft demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Sherlock was a little bit frightened over this exchange and sidled up slightly behind Mycroft.

The stranger sighed, “You really are his kid. Oxfords, not Brogues. Does that ring a bell for you?”

Mycroft’s eyes widened and he flashed back to when he was 8 years old and playing spies with his dad. That was their password for when they need to verify each other’s identities in case one of them was impersonated by the bad guys. Mycroft always thought that such an obscure phrase would never be repeated by another soul but yet here it was, coming out of the mouth of a man who claims to know his father.

“We need to go now.” An urgent note entered the stranger’s voice.

Mycroft reluctantly nodded and followed the man towards the black car parked near the main entrance. Sherlock had to half-run to keep up with the long strides of the other two.

\--------

Who is this man? What had happened to dad? Why are we being picked up by someone we don’t know? Why is mom not the one picking us up instead? She doesn’t work that far away. I need to know what’s going on. What are the chances that he will tell us what’s happening?

Maybe he will. Oh what the heck let’s just try. No harm trying right? “Excuse me, Mister?” Crap. My voice sounds so high and pitchy like I’m nervous. 

“Yeah?”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

“London, right?” I spotted a road sign when we turned into the highway.

“Yes.”

Damn. I can’t read his tone at all and since he’s facing the front, I can’t tell his expression. 

“Where is it in London exactly?”

“We’ll reach in about 90 minutes. Maybe less.”

I glanced at the speedometer at the dashboard. It’s pushing 90 mph, well above the speed limit. Well, I guess that confirms that we are indeed in a hurry.

“Dad’s office?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You’re an accountant?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice. He couldn’t look more opposite of my image of an accountant (which, I admit, was largely due to my impression of my father). This guy is blonde with a ski instructor built, tall and athletic looking with perfectly coiffed hair parted at the side and gelled into place. He does not look like he spends all day sitting on a desk. My dad, on the other hand, was pretty tall and lean with messy hair with a pair of black rimmed glasses perpetually perched on his nose. 

“I work with your father.”

He’s evading my questions without missing a beat. 

“Where’s my mom?” I decided to change tactics. Sherlock perked up a bit at the mention of mom. He’s really a mummy’s boy. I mentally do   
an eye-roll to commemorate the moment but still keeping my gaze trained on the man driving us.

“She’s on her way.”

“Why don’t we pick her up too?”

“She’s not really on the way, is she?”

Oh crap, that’s true. “Well, why not pick her up first and then pick us up? Then it will be on the way.” Oops. Did that sound a bit triumphant? 

“There’s a time issue.”

“So you’d rather send 2 cars instead?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Efficiency.”

“So that we can arrive earlier?”

“Yes.”

“Do we need to arrive before a certain time?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the rush?”

“The earlier the better.”

This man is so plainly refusing to tell us anything. I wonder if there is any point to continuing this interrogation. I glanced at Sherlock who’s clutching my coat. He looks like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment while staring out the window. Hmm, the black clouds outside looked rather ominous. I shook my head slightly, rather ashamed at the superstitious thought.   
OK, I need to focus. What did dad say about being put into an unfamiliar situation? Right. First things first, inspect your surroundings. Okay let’s start with the car. A black Benz with luxurious dark red leather upholstery. The highly polished wooden dashboard makes the car looks brand new although there is no new car smell. The top of the driver’s head is brushing the ceiling and he looks rather uncomfortable and cramped. So this is definitely not his car. Therefore this might be an office car. They can spare two cars to pick us up. I would imagine they would send the crappier car to pick up the kids and let mom have the fancier car if the two cars are not identical. That means the office has at least two expensive cars. Maybe more. So the office is quite well-off. Dad had never said much about his job but he hinted that it’s a pretty small establishment. How can a small accountancy firm afford such luxurious cars? And also afford to send 2 of its limited manpower for practically half a day? Don’t they have work to do? 

A ringing sound suddenly broke the silence in the car.

My eyes went wide as the man reached towards a section of the dashboard and extracted out a cleverly concealed handset. This car has a satellite phone! My suspicion skyrocketed exponentially at this point. No mere commoner can have a satellite phone! Only government officials and the secret service are rumoured to have them so that they can be reached even while they were on the road. Oh my god they are government officials or secret service! Wait, they couldn’t be government officials. Those people love shoving the credentials in people’s faces. So the only thing they could be is the secret service! MI5? MI6??!! I need to eavesdrop on their conversation to verify my deduction. 

“Arthur! To what do I owe this pleasure?” The blonde man cheerily answered the phone. Arthur? If he’s a secret agent, he wouldn’t say the person’s real name in front of us. So Arthur is a code name? Arthur as in…. King Arthur? So he’s the leader? 

“Yes, yes. They are sitting in the back seat now safe and sound.” I guess the boss called to check up on us. 

“Okay.” I noticed his voice lost its cheeriness slightly. And why the brief silence after that? The boss must be briefing him on new information. Is it about mom?

“Gotcha. See you back in headquarters.” The cheeriness is back two fold. He’s definitely hiding something. He replaced the phone back to its concealed compartment.

“Who was that?” I blurted out.

“My boss.” He answered curtly. Hah I knew it. I was right in assuming that Arthur was a code name!

“Is he with my dad right now?”

“No.”

“So what’s the family emergency then? Did something happen to my dad?”

This time there was a long pause from the man. Now I’m panicking. I’m onto something. Something very horrible must have happened to dad! Is he in a hospital somewhere in critical condition? That seems to be the only explanation why they are rushing us to London. But then where do the secret service and codename thing fit in? Was my father an accountant to the secret service? I guess they do need someone to handle their cash flow. I need to know what happened to dad! And if he is in hospital, that man better be driving 120mph!

“Well? Did something happen to my father?” I demanded a second time.

The man sighed before replying in a sombre tone, “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to be the one to inform you. I’d hoped that your mother would be around when you received this news. But I will respect your wishes to know what has happened. Mycroft, Sherlock, Your father has passed away in a work-related accident a few hours ago.”

Suddenly I feel my body ran cold. I couldn’t really breathe. I just saw him this morning when he was on his way to work. He kissed the top of my head because I refused to let him kiss my cheeks because I’m not a kid anymore. Did I even say goodbye when he left or was I too busy shovelling cereal into my mouth? 

“Thank you for telling me. I appreciate that.” I manage to croak out a reply to the earth-shattering news. 

“I’m sorry, kid. I really am. Your father was a brilliant man.”

“I know.” I whispered softly. I can feel my brain started going numb, which is a weird thing for me because normally it ran non-stop. I guess I’m in shock. The last thing I noticed was that rain has started pouring from those ominous black clouds.

\--------  
Sherlock has been listening intently to the conversation going on in the car. The last part of the conversation made him clutch even harder onto Mycroft’s coat until his knuckles all turned white. He wants his mom more than ever now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the hiatus! Life happened. I promise I'll try to update once a week starting from now on :)
> 
> Anyway, hoped you guys enjoyed the chapter! I decided to switch to 1st person narration for this chapter because I thought it would be interesting to do the story from 14 year old Mycroft's POV to show how he internally coped with the chain of events that doesn't really make sense to him. In the future, I'll switch between 1st person and 3rd person narration, depending on which one is more suitable to the chapter. 
> 
> If you guys like the story, kudos and comments would be appreciated! Also, bookmark this so you wont miss upcoming chapters! I promise they will all be action-packed :)


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